How Sweet The Moonlight
by Slayergirl
Summary: Post Series 13, and Nikki's in need of a little comfort after her breakup with Anton. I wish I owned them; I don't.


**A/N: Dedicated to Immortal Spud Thief, as this whole thing was sparked off by an author's note in the excellent 'Holiday' (chapter 25, in case anyone's interested). A belated happy birthday!**

**I always hear Vaughan Williams's "Serenade to Music" when I read that quote from Shakespeare (at the end, and the title of the fic), as that's how it starts… and it's so gorgeously romantic, that it interwove itself into this fic, and I just had to put the quotation in at the end :)**

**Please R&R if you enjoy it!**

***

Nikki stood at the harbour edge, gazing moodily into the water that, as the sun went down, was turning from blue to inky-black. She knew she'd done the right thing to leave Anton. Strangely, it didn't even hurt. At least, it hurt that he'd lied to her – or, perhaps more accurately, not told her some pretty damned _vital_ pieces of information – but the end of her relationship with him was actually, if she was honest, something of a relief. _Maybe I'm just not ready to settle down yet_, she thought to herself, but knew immediately it wasn't true. It wasn't that she wasn't ready to settle down yet; it was just that Anton wasn't the person she wanted to settle down _with_. And, as she was being honest with herself this evening, she'd known it all along.

She became acutely aware of a familiar presence leaning against the railings next to her, but didn't turn her head to look. "Thought I might find you here."

"Mm," she replied, non-committally.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. "Would you rather I left you to it?"

She turned to look at him, finally, a sad look in her eyes. "No," she said softly. "Don't go."

He smiled faintly, and held an arm out to her, and she nestled into him, relaxing as she felt the warmth of his body through the thin shirt, the strength of his arms as he held her. He didn't say anything, just held her. "Want to tell me about it?" he asked after a while.

She shrugged. "Nothing to tell, really." She gave a small sigh. "I was hoping we'd be on our way back to England by now, but of course, the flight being cancelled put paid to my dreams of a dramatic exit," she said ruefully.

He chuckled, glancing down at her. "You weren't being at all… _childish,_ were you, Nikki?"

She looked up at him, briefly, then looking away again, she said quietly, "I wanted him to believe that I was leaving him because he'd lied to me – to blame it on him, what he's done, rather than… than the real reason I was leaving him."

"Which is?" he asked.

"I just… realised he wasn't the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I want my own children, not to be a stepmother, regardless of how sweet the kids are. I don't want to come back here permanently, to live – I have a life in London now, friends, a good job that I love. I realised, in the end, I didn't want to give up on any of the things I have currently in my life, and… if I'd really loved him, I'd have given up anything to be with him. And I wouldn't do that. But that's not his fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"But you let him think the end of the relationship was his fault?"

She sighed. "I know. I should have told him the truth. But I don't think I was really ready to admit that, even to myself, right then."

"No?"

She shook her head. "No."

There was another lull in the conversation. "Leo's managed to organise us seats on a plane leaving the day after tomorrow. He asked me to let you know."

She gave a wry smile. "In other words, Leo was worried about me, and asked you to come and find me and make sure I was okay."

He grinned. "No; actually, I told him I was going to do that, and he gave me the message."

She wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her head on his shoulder. "Thanks."

He hugged her more tightly. "Have you eaten? Leo and I went ahead and had dinner when you didn't show up."

She nodded. "Yes, thanks, I went to a street stall on my way down here."

He gave her a considering look, and smiled. "Walk?"

She smiled back at him. "Okay."

She didn't object to the fact that he had his arm wrapped protectively round her waist as they walked in the direction of the sea-front; in fact, she found it enormously comforting and reassuring to know that he was there with her. A little hesitantly, she sat next to him on the rock he'd chosen on the beach – flat on top, and still holding the warmth of the sun, despite the deepening sky – and leant against him. She let her head rest on his shoulder as she gazed out to sea, watching the sea lose its twilight glow as the moon rose in the clear, perfect sky.

He didn't say anything, just sat with his arm around her, as he, too, gazed out to sea. She realised he was waiting for her to speak. And she was being honest with herself, this evening, so why not with him, too? "I didn't really love him," she admitted softly, and felt a surge of relief as it was finally said.

He glanced at her, then back out to sea. "No?"

She shook her head. "I wanted to think I did. I really wanted to believe I did, that we had a future… that someone loved me enough to spend the rest of their lives with me. And maybe he did, but… I didn't love him enough to spend the rest of my life with him."

"You just wanted to be happy," he reasoned softly. "There's no crime in that."

"I let him think I loved him."

"You tried to make yourself believe it as well," he reminded her gently. "At least you're being honest enough with yourself to realise that you don't love him. That he wasn't the person that you want to share your life with." He let the suggestion hang in the air, not pressing her to continue.

She was tempted to get up and make some excuse, run away, not face up to what she could feel deep inside her that frightened her so much – the feelings that had at first driven her into Anton's arms with their strength and persistence, and then driven her back out of them again, with the self-same strength and persistence that had got her into this mess in the first place. But she'd made a pact with herself that she was going to be honest with herself, and she stayed put. Being honest with herself didn't mean she _had_ to answer Harry's unspoken question, after all. It just meant that she had to acknowledge her own feelings for what they were.

She started shivering uncontrollably, tears welling up in her eyes. How could she even have considered being with Anton, when he was the very opposite of what – who – she really wanted? _Perhaps for that very reason_, she thought; _Anton's everything that Harry isn't._

"I was scared," she said, so quietly he could barely hear it.

"Of what?"

She closed her eyes, knowing there was no way back after the next part of her admission. "After… the bomb scare, at the school. I was scared… I was scared of losing you." She still stared straight ahead, out to sea, feeling, rather than seeing, the nod for her to continue. She swallowed. "I was scared that someone could mean so much to me. So much it hurt… almost physically hurt… to think of losing them."

"So you went into denial." It was a statement, rather than a question; she wondered how much he'd already realised.

She nodded. "I… couldn't deal with it, I…"

"Shh…" he soothed. "It was just your way of dealing with it. It was a traumatic time – for both of us – and nobody could blame either of us for not being able to face up to our feelings for each other at that stage."

Her head snapped round to look at him, finally. _Our feelings for each other?_ she mouthed in astonishment, no sound coming out. It had honestly not occurred to her that Harry felt the same way about her as she did about him – not after all these years, after all the people they'd been with, after Penny, after… everything.

He smiled faintly. "I nearly died, and I nearly lost you," he said simply. "Maybe it took that to realise what you mean to me, as well. And I couldn't bear to let you go. And then I found out that you were with Anton, so I didn't say anything. I thought… for a while at least… that you really were happy, and I wanted you to be happy, so I… tried my best to walk away. But then… I saw little things that made me wonder, and I couldn't quite give up hope. And then today…" he rubbed her arm gently with his thumb, "I knew that there was a chance, just a sliver of a chance, but I knew I had to take it."

Her lips quirked into a smile. "So your ulterior motive in coming to find me was actually to take me on a romantic walk and pour out your feelings for me?"

"No," he said quietly. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I wanted to find out, from anything you might say, if there would ever be a chance for me. I wasn't intending to push things, I promise you."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Harry, I…"

"I realise it's probably too soon, but.."

She wrapped both arms around him, and buried her head in the crook of his neck. "Not too soon," she choked out, hugging him fiercely.

He hugged her back, never wanting to let her go, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. For a few minutes he felt incapable of saying anything, just revelling in the realisation that they'd both, finally, been honest enough, both with themselves and with each other, to accept and acknowledge their feelings. He let out a long breath, not having realised he'd been holding it. He rifled idle fingers through her hair, and kissed her temple as she turned her head slightly. "We okay, now?" he asked softly.

The sound that escaped her was somewhere between laugh, sob, and hiccup, and she just nodded, arms tightening round him momentarily.

A soft smile reached his eyes as well as his lips as he kissed her forehead. "You're missing the view," he told her quietly. "And I promise you, it's worth looking at."

She sat back, wiping tears away from her eyes at the same time as laughing a little bit, still wobbly from the emotions of her confession and Harry's response. He grinned down at her, and motioned her to snuggle closer to him. She shivered a little in the cool night air, and he shifted to sit behind her on the rock, long legs either side of her, and his arms wrapping around her from behind. She gave a sigh of contentment as she leant back against him, feeling him play lazily with her fingers as they gazed at the ever-darkening sky as the stars came out, one by one, the only sound the quiet lapping of the waves against the shore. "Harry Cunningham, the closet romantic," she teased softly.

He leant forward a little to kiss her cheek, arms tightening briefly. "I blame it entirely on the company."

"I don't think the Home Office…" she began, but stilled when he hushed her gently.

"We've joked and messed around too long, hiding our feelings," he said quietly. "Let's just enjoy the moment."

She smiled a little shyly to herself, and twisted in his arms a little, so as to face him. "You're right," she smiled, looking him directly in the eye for the first time that evening. "The view really _is_ worth looking at."

He smiled down at her, her expression whimsical and almost glowing in the moonlight, and cupped her face in his hand. "It really is," he agreed, as he bent to brush her lips with his.

***

"_How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank._

_Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music_

_Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night_

_Become the touches of sweet harmony."_

_~ Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"_


End file.
